They make their positions painfully clear. They will leave Ashvale, stay with relatives or friends in nearby towns until the danger passes. They say they’ll return when it is safe again, but they won’t be part of the fight. Whether it takes place here or in Fallamhain territory.
Eldrith and I both look to Amara when they announce this, hoping forsomething. A blink. A shake of her head. A signal of her approval or disapproval of this plan. But we get nothing. She stares out at the window into the darkness that has long since blanketed the world outside.
Lena is the most vocal of the Craddock wolves, spitting her rejection of Rennick’s idea with more spite than political tact. She isn’t willing to live under another pack Alpha’s rule. Especially not a man’s. I catch Edie watching her as she speaks, big brown eyes flicking between her scent-matched mate and me. Torn down the middle, she doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t have to. Edie’s silence says enough, and I know my Nightingale is going to fly the nest. No pun intended.
But some of Lowri’s wolves—many of whom have come up through the Nightingale program, or who’ve known me longer—argue back. Their Alpha is dead. The strongest of them, takenin the bright of day, compelled by a force none of them have the strength to resist. If Lowri didn’t stand a chance against the dark witches, then who will? The compeller is still alive, still out there possibly waiting for the right time to come back. And we all know she won’t come back alone.
That stomach-curdling reality seems to be what turns the tide in Rennick’s favor. Slowly, a few of them start to nod, adding quiet murmurs of agreement.
But apparently they have a condition.
The shift in the room is immediate as heads swing in my direction all at once. Their gazes hold a weight I don’t know I can bear. It is like suddenly being summoned to testify at a trial I wasn’t aware I was a witness at.
All the blood flees from my face, my lips going basically numb.
It is Cerys who speaks up. The tall alpha she-wolf stands by the hearth, her arms folded over her chest, and her signature lilac-colored faux-hawk still mused from battle. Lowri never had an official second-in-command, the size of her pack didn’t require one, but if she had, it would have been Cerys.
“We’re willing to go to your territory, Fallamhain,” she announces, speaking for the group of Craddock wolves who are already leaning toward Rennick’s plan. “But we don’t know you. And we sure as hell don’t trust you. Noa, though—” She turns to me then, eyes steady. “—we trust her. We know what she’s endured because of you. If she’s still willing to leave this place and go to your home despite it, we’ll follow her. But if she stays, so do we.”
I’ve felt hollow since I woke up, but against all odds, my stomach finds a way to sink further at Cerys’s resolute declaration.
“I’m not…” I try to talk, but the words catch. “I’m not even—”A wolf. Not really. Not in the ways that count. I can’t shift.My instincts are fractured, buried deep. The only reason they’ve started stirring again is because of Rennick. Because of whatever his presence has done to loosen the bindings my own mother wrapped around that half of me. “I’m not a member of your pack, Cerys,” I settle on instead. “You can’t base your decision on me.”
She isn’t swayed.
“Maybe you’re not a member of the pack—not officially, anyway,” she says. “But you’re one of the reasons so many of us are still standing. You helped build this place. Every omega who’s come through these doors, you’ve played a part in their healing. You’re an anchor for so many in this town, Noa. And that makes you someone worth following. So, if you trust this Alpha and believe his plan will protect us, and our omegas, then we’re behind you. If not, we’ll stay here with you and find a way to protect our own. Just as we always have.”
The pressure hits me all at once, the crushing weight of responsibility like a sandbag on my shoulders. It takes everything not to collapse under the strain right then and there.
I’m already moving toward the exit when I hastily excuse myself over my shoulder.
Someone calls out for me—I don’t know who—and I don’t stop.
I end up in a room I’ve been avoiding for eight months. My mom’s office.
The door clicks shut behind me and I turn the lock before I can talk myself out of it. The air is stale from disuse, only the faintest trace of Mom’s familiar sage scent lingers. Everything inside the dark room is still untouched, just as she left it. Books are left open on her antique desk, her favorite sweater over the back of her thrifted desk chair. It is comforting as much as it is heartbreaking.
I curl up on the tufted salmon-colored sofa pushed up against the far wall. I always think it is ugly as sin, but she loves the damn thing.
Silence stretches over me as I stare at nothing.
At some point, too wrung out emotionally and physically, I fall asleep. I remember waking a few times to movement outside the room. A creak of the floorboards, shadows moving under the crack in the door.
His scent slips through the frame.
Earth and leather.
Rennick.
Even half asleep, my wolf stirs, ears perk up and tail wagging knowing he is close. Watching over us. Keeping us safe.
And me? I hate how easily I rest knowing he is out there.
In the morning light—albeitvery early and pale light—the new day doesn’t offer clarity. But at least I’m upright and no longer locked inside a room. So, you know,progress.
I now stare out my bedroom window like the familiar view will bring me answers. Aboutanything—the status of the sanctuary, the impossible choices stacked at my feet, and lastly, my conflicting feelings for Rennick.
The warm protection I feel when I’m near him clashes violently with the part of my heart that hasn’t forgotten. The part that still screams that he’s not safe. That he’s heartbreak wrapped in a slick-inducing, handsome package. That believing him when he promises he’s going to put me back together will be the literal nail in my coffin.
